


Golden

by HopeCoppice



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Biblical References, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 18:22:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19447006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeCoppice/pseuds/HopeCoppice
Summary: Every time Crowley's proud of something, it seems like Aziraphale has to come along and ruin it. Aziraphale's not always thrilled about it, either.





	Golden

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why, but a line of Crawly's from this got stuck in my head and wouldn't shift until I'd written it. Enjoy!

Aziraphale looked up from the pot he was stirring as Crawly burst through the flap of his tent. He’d left it unsecured for this very reason; he’d suspected Crawly’s involvement in the recent debacle and knew that if he _had_ been behind it, he’d want to complain about being thwarted. It was just as well, really; if he’d tied the flap down as usual it would probably have a demon-shaped hole in it now. Crawly glanced around, taking in their surroundings, and then his unblinking yellow eyes fixed on the pot.

“Is that-?”

“Gold, yes.”

“Oi! I was proud of that! You’ve gone and melted it!”

“God’s orders, I’m afraid. Well, Moses asked me for the favour, actually, but _he_ got the nod from God.”

“She’s talking to humans now?” Crawly was distracted, but only for a moment. “Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is, do you know how long I spent on that golden calf? It had _individual teeth._ Ever seen a calf’s teeth? _I_ have, because I _looked_. And you’ve melted it?”

“It was an idol.”

“I mean, would it have killed you not to mention it to God?”

“That was Moses, too. But they were _worshipping_ it, Crawly, it couldn’t be allowed to go on.”

“You’re blessed right, they were worshipping it. It deserved it, it was a masterpiece!”

“ _Crawly._ ” Aziraphale glared at him - actually glared. He didn’t like the way it felt, and judging by the way the demon looked at him, it didn’t suit him. “Would you mind awfully getting out of my tent?”

“Fine. Enjoy your golden puddle.” And he sloped off with an almighty crash of canvas being slammed against canvas.

Alone in the tent, Aziraphale continued to stir. The calf had been an idol, and it had to be destroyed. He wasn’t sure why _he’d_ been given the task - Moses had seemed shifty, somehow, as if he just wanted to get him out of the way for a while - but he was glad to do it. Anyone else might have charged blindly ahead.

It _had_ been a very impressive little statue. Aziraphale had taken a moment to admire it, while the fire was getting going. Not only did it have individual teeth, but you could see all the individual hairs - the only minor error was that if you looked very closely, it had a snake for a tail, and that had been what really confirmed its origin for certain. Crawly had done an excellent job. It was art, really, not just idolatry.

The golden calf was an idol; transmuting it into bronze was sufficient to change that, surely? It was, after all, materially not the same as the calf the humans had just been worshipping. Then, of course, once he'd done that, he’d miracled up some gold and tipped it into the pot, and tucked the bronze calf away in his bag where it could do no harm.

Aziraphale hummed quietly to himself, tipping the gold out onto a flat rock to wait for it to cool again. Moses wanted it ground up, for some reason, which made the melting something of a wasted effort, but he’d been quite particular about it. He’d hinted that it was a matter of orders from above, and since God wasn’t talking to Aziraphale much these days, he would have to accept that at face value.

God was, however, going to be angry about the whole incident. Aziraphale rather thought he might be needed somewhere else quite shortly; he would leave as soon as he’d handed back the ground gold.

* * *

Several thousand years later, Aziraphale invited Crowley back to the bookshop for a bit of a celebration. They’d just saved the world, after all, and it seemed worthy of more than just a little toast at the Ritz. He hadn’t had much of a plan in mind, besides not wanting Crowley to go home just yet, but as he looked around at the books on the shelves, he realised that some of them had changed. What if not all of his possessions were still there?

A quick dig through the safe - Crowley had obligingly remained in the shop, glaring at passersby who looked as if they might come in - reassured him that his most precious belongings were safe, and suddenly he felt the urge to set an old wrong right, or an old right wrong. It was a wicked thing to do, Aziraphale was sure - God wouldn’t like it - but then, God would have to be paying attention to actually _dislike_ it, and he was almost certain that She wasn’t.

Crowley frowned as he set the box on the table - he’d miracled one up and tied it with ribbon, just for the show of the thing - and then leaned back as if he thought it might be a trap.

“I, er, I didn’t realise we were doing gifts.”

“We weren’t. We aren’t. I mean, this is technically yours anyway, I’m just giving it back.”

“Something of _mine_?” The demon’s hand went to his sunglasses, as if to check he hadn’t lost them - as if he hadn’t destroyed about seven pairs in the last three days anyway. “Does it bite?”

“What have you lost that bites?” It was half a retort and half a genuine question; he dreaded to think what Crowley might have unleashed on the world in a careless moment.

“No, nothing, I don’t think. What is it, then?”

“Open it and find out.”

The demon took his sunglasses off to get a better look, so Aziraphale could see the exact moment he recognised what was inside the box. His eyes widened, pupils dilating, and then he was turning the little statue over and over, inspecting every detail.

“This is- but it can’t be?”

“It is. I call it Daisy.”

“But it was gold, I made it in gold - you copied it?”

“Transformed it. Well, it really is an excellent statue.”

“It was bigger, too-”

“This was easier to hide. I, ah, resized it before I left.”

“You kept this, all these years?” Crowley was beaming, now, grinning from ear to ear, and Aziraphale rather thought he’d like to see that expression on the demon more often. “I was so angry- And now you’re giving it back?”

“Yes. But no worshipping it.”

They sat in silence for several minutes as Crowley continued to trace the marks of his own artistry. Aziraphale rather thought that he _was_ worshipping it, a little, but it wasn’t as though anybody was looking. Besides, he might as well enjoy the peace while it lasted-

“Wait. _Daisy?”_

There it was.


End file.
